Change My Point of View
by QueenofConstellations
Summary: They are not defined by kindness, but by the difference they make. They don't have the luxury that normal people do, to be credited on giving money to charity or giving compliments. They are forced to not only be popower hungry and dark and brooding, but to be welcoming and successful and forever expanding. Dramione
1. Teach Me Something New

The sunlight was barely peeking into Hermione Granger's room when she opened her eyes to greet the morning. The rays of pink and pale orange almost forced her eyes closed again, and she covered her sensitive eyes with her hand. Beside her, her boyfriend slept on, his mouth wide open and arms thrown to the side, one under her head and the other on top of the Muggle alarm clock Hermione insisted on.

She smiled softly at him but left him alone, deciding to let him sleep in until she was finished with her shower. It was a luxury he didn't often receive. It took her approximately ten minutes before her long, curly hair was washed, conditioned, and combed, and as she tied her purple robe around her naked body, she poked her head back into her bedroom to check on Ron.

He was still asleep, in the same position. With a quiet chuckle, Hermione padded into the room, her wet hair wrapped in a towel, and removed his hand from the alarm clock he had turned off. With a few adjustments, the alarm would go off in…three minutes.

To avoid being in the same room as the incessant beeping, Hermione vacated to the kitchen to make tea and breakfast.

Almost every morning went like this, Hermione getting ready in the quiet while Ron slept in until he woke up in a flurry. She enjoyed these peaceful moments, where she could exist with only her thoughts occupying her. It had been like this for almost four years now, and Hermione was finally feeling comfortable with the life she lived.

Even if it was a little boring.

The loud beeping finally reached her ears and she hid a smirk behind a curtain of her brown tendrils while she eyeballed her tea kettle. In a predictable flurry of movement, Ron came barreling into the kitchen, breaking the pensive quiet of Hermione's morning.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked breathlessly, kissing the side of her head as he used the coffee pot reflection to fix his disheveled hair.

"Well, you ignored the alarm, so what would be any different than ignoring me?" Hermione said with a shrug. "You need to shower to get your hair to stay down, by the way. I would know," she gestured at her own curly mop. "I'll make you some eggs while you do."

He gave her a look of gratitude before bounding off to the bathroom like an overexcited puppy.

Hermione's phone beeped, another Muggle contraption she had made Ron learn to use. The entire Auror office used them now, thanks to her, as well as the Misuse of Magic office.

"Minister: Miss Granger, could I see you in my office in half an hour?"

Hermione groaned and quickly turned the fried eggs into scrambled eggs. While they cooked, she sprinted to the bathroom and spread some mascara over her eyelashes, some tinted moisturizer on the apples of her cheeks, and some lip balm over her chapped lips.

"Ronald, your breakfast is on the table," she called over the shower spray. "Kingsley called me in."

A sound that might have been an "I love you" came back to her, but with the roar of the shower, Hermione couldn't be sure. She slipped on a navy blue suit and grabbed her shoes, slipping them on halfway. She jogged back to the kitchen, tripping over her shoes as she did so, to scarf down an egg and a piece of toast and to pour her tea in a to-go mug.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Kingsley said with a smile in his low, comforting voice. "Glad to see my message was not too short of notice."

Hermione struggled to catch her breath. "Of course not, Minister."

A derisive laugh met her ears. "Still sucking up, Granger? Good to see some things never change."

She didn't have to turn around to see who that was. "Long time, Malfoy. Too bad it wasn't long enough."

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy is here for the same reason you are. Now we are just waiting for one more person," Kingsley said with a slight shift in tone that dared her to misbehave. Malfoy must have heard it to, because he fell silent with no more sarcastic remarks. Hermione refused to even glance at him out of the corner of her eye, but she had to admit that her curiosity would quickly get the better of her.

She hadn't seen Malfoy since the end of the war, when he disappeared with his parents. Not in person, anyway. She had seen plenty of pictures of him with leggy blondes and fashion models on the cover of _Witch Weekly, _but nothing substantial. She had heard plenty of things about his family: his mother was living in the Manor with his father, who had been confined there on permanent house arrest, his sentence downgraded because of Narcissa Malfoy's lie to Voldemort that turned the tide of the war.

But it was Draco Malfoy who ran Malfoy Enterprises now, and it was flourishing. She tried to contain her eye roll.

"So sorry I'm late, Minister, I just got your message…Oh, Draco! How are you? Long time!"

Finally, Hermione was forced to turn her eyes to the blond boy in time to see him embrace another famous Slytherin: Blaise Zambini. Dark and mature where Malfoy was whiter than a marshmallow and contentiously obnoxious, Blaise Zambini was one of the few Slytherins that Hermione could stand.

"And Hermione Granger! Pleasant to see you again, and in that blue suit that I love so much," he said, shaking her hand, giving her a saucy wink. Hermione felt herself blush in spite of herself and regained her seat, this time smirking at Malfoy's obvious discontent.

"Minister, what exactly is going on?" Blaise finally turned his eyes to the one who called them.

Kingsley shifted in his seat and turned his eyes to Malfoy. "Mister Malfoy, would you like to explain?"

Malfoy paused only a moment before nodding. "I asked the Minister to call in the best of the best from the Auror office and private security. That's why both of you were called in this morning. Malfoy Enterprises has been part of my family for generations, handed down to the next Malfoy heir when his father decides to retire."

Or forced to retire, Hermione thought darkly.

"But it has never been a secret that Malfoy Enterprises has been a pit of money laundering and even recruitment for the Dark Lord – sorry, Voldemort. When my father retired and gave the company to me, I vowed to cut off those avenues of business and make Malfoy Enterprises legitimate."

Hermione could barely control the sneer that was threatening to take over her face. The Malfoys? Legitimate? Never.

"But it seems that doing so has angered some former Death Eaters. Some of my employees have started to go missing. My own secretary, a man named Emil, was found murdered this morning, and all files that had anything to do with Malfoy Enterprises was gone from his flat. He didn't have anything truly important, I have all of that, but it makes the attacker's intentions clear."

"So you want us to figure out who it is and save your company," Blaise finished.

"I'm sorry, but are we just supposed to accept your story as is?" Hermione asked. "We all know that Malfoy Enterprises has taken a hit since you took over, presumably because you're cutting off the illegitimate parts of the company. Wouldn't this be the perfect rebranding stunt that you'd need?"

"I'm not a Death Eater, Granger, and if you want to help, you're going to have to get off your high horse," Malfoy replied. "My company has taken a hit because instead of taking new clients, I've been eradicating old ones. It's hard for stocks to go up when you're cutting off clients instead of adding more. But there's only one of me, I can only do so much."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "I'm still not sure I believe you."

"Miss Granger, the Auror office has been investigating the death of Emil Bronson and had determined that everything Mister Malfoy has told you is true. Many of his staff have reported to have lost time, blacking out for a few days and coming to in a different place. Some have been getting threatening owls. He is not fabricating this."

Hermione turned back to Malfoy. "Why is it that members of your staff are coming forward now?"

"Because they are afraid for their lives, Granger," Malfoy spat. "Weren't you supposed to be the champion for all living things? Or was that just bullshit."

"Okay, I think what Hermione meant was –" Blaise was abruptly cut off by Malfoy's angry tirade continuing to wash over the office.

"These people are my friends, my family. They have worked for Malfoy Enterprises for years. It is my job to protect them, and now I'm asking for help but that somehow still makes me the bad guy? Merlin, Granger, you have a twisted sense of self-righteousness."

"Forgive me if your victim complex doesn't make me cry, Malfoy," Hermione spat back. "But you are notorious, as well as your family, for dealing dirty. Now I'm just supposed to decide that you're worthy of saving? Of help?"

"You tried to save the filthy hippogriff that slashed me but I'm still more of a monster?" Malfoy asked.

"Buckbeak didn't do anything wrong, it was –"

"Me, of course it was me. Has it ever occurred to you, Granger, that you don't know absolutely everything there is to know about me and the rest of the world? Just because we aren't all bright and shiny and drowning in how good and perfect we are doesn't mean innocent people deserve to die. Because that's what you're doing. You're dooming more people to get kidnapped, blackmailed, and maybe even killed because you can't grow the hell up."

Hermione opened her mouth furiously to respond, though how she would respond she had no idea, when Malfoy held up his hand. "I don't have time for this," he snarled.

He stalked out of the room, leaving his coffee behind, and slammed the door behind him, making the rest of the people in the room jump. Kingsley took a deep breath and turned to Blaise.

"If you wish to assist Mister Malfoy in this investigation, please report to Malfoy Enterprises tomorrow morning and look over these files in the mean time," he said, passing over a stack of manila folders.

Blaise nodded and exited the room, leaving Hermione with Kingsley.

"Minister, I –"

"Miss Granger, I thought you were smarter than this," Kingsley began with a disappointed sigh. "Your personal feelings toward Mister Malfoy aside, we have to investigate all reported crimes that come over our desk. You know that."

Hermione did know that. "But why did it have to be me, Minister? It could have been anyone else who can put up with Malfoy."

"I didn't see much wrong with Mister Malfoy's behavior today, Miss Granger. And he requested the best. I thought you'd see this as a challenge; a chance to prove that House enmities don't mean anything in the real world. You could be a role model to many Gryffindor women. But instead you came in here, acting like Malfoy was wearing house elf skin shoes."

Shame was slowly creeping up Hermione's neck. "He hates me, Minister."

"And yet, he didn't tell me to choose someone else when I told him you were the best."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know if I can do it, Minister. Even if I accept that I was out of line, he still made my life hell for years. I can't just forget it."

"Then don't," Kingsley replied. "Let it make you a stronger person, let it make you see things differently. But those people that work for him didn't ruin your life. In fact, Malfoy didn't even ruin your life. No one can do that but you. You are a great Auror, Miss Granger. It's time to go do your job."

"Harry, have you seen Hermione yet?" Ron asked, self-consciously smoothing his still unruly red hair. "She got called in early but I haven't seen her yet."

Harry shook his head, never looking up from his files. "I haven't seen anything but this stupid file all morning," he groaned. "I can't wait until the World Cup is over."

His normally messy black hair was weighed down with what looked like evidence of not showering, and his eyes were red and bloodshot. Ron, taking pity on his best friend, took the seat across from him. "Pass me a file, let me help," he said bracingly. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything we might have missed in the security department," Harry said, gratefully handing another file over to Ron. "Thanks."

"No problem," Ron waved him off. "I don't have a case right now anyway, so this is keeping me busy."

They fell into a companionable silence for the next half hour or so. When Ron had seen Harry run his fingers through his hair for the fifteenth time, he finally spoke. "Okay, I don't know if this is relevant…but…"

Harry put down the file like it burned him. "But what?"

"Well, Barty Crouch Jr. was taking Polyjuice Potion, right? What if we put wards around the stadium and camping grounds that wash away potions and spells that change your appearance or identity? That way if anyone on the Death Eater list tries to get in secretly, we'll know."

Harry stared at his best friend for a few long seconds before clapping his hands together. "That's a brilliant idea, Ron. Come on, let's go tell Kingsley so he can put a committee together for it."

As they trekked up to Kingsley's office, Harry turned to Ron and said, under his breath, "So you got the ring, right?"

Ron's face flushed a brilliant red. "Yeah, it was my grandmother's. I have it hidden in my desk here so she won't find it. And I got reservations at that restaurant she likes."

"I can't wait until I can tell her I knew the whole time and she had no idea," Harry gloated, puffing out his chest. Ron gave him a glare.

"This is my marriage proposal, do you mind not making it all about you, Boy Who Was Chosen or whatever they call you?"

Harry laughed. "Hey, I've been waiting for this longer than she has, I deserve to be excited."

Ron rolled his eyes as they caught sight of Kingsley's office door. "How are you still my best friend? How am I not tired of you yet?"

Harry paused to consider a response.

"Hermione?"

Hermione, looking like she was about to cry, turned around, the door to Kingsley's office half closed, and locked eyes with Ron. "Ronald? How did you know I was here?"

Ron shrugged. "I didn't. Harry and I were going to talk to Kingsley. Are you okay?"

She shrugged, sniffed, but still lied. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just have a new assignment that I need to take care of. I'll see you at home tonight?" she asked. Ron nodded, and she was quickly heading toward the elevator, a bunch of files in her hand.

"You're just going to let her go?" Harry asked. "Something was definitely wrong."

Ron nodded. "She'll tell me about it tonight, when she doesn't feel like she'll cry when she talks about it. If I push her, I'll be sleeping on the couch."

Harry smirked. "Good man," he said, heading up to knock on Kingsley's door. "We'll make a husband out of you yet."

"Mister Malfoy," Draco's temporary secretary poked her head in through the door. "You have a visitor."

Draco didn't even bother looking up from his desk. "Who is it?"

"She will not tell me, sir."

Draco paused in his perusal of his notes. "What does she look like?" he asked, motioning for the secretary to come inside. He still hadn't learned her name.

"Curly brown hair, blue suit, a little prudish," the secretary explained.

Hermione Granger. With a creak, Draco leaned back in his chair. "Tell her I'm busy. Send her away. If she wants to wait, make her wait all day," he said, feeling particularly nasty. There were few things that got under his skin like Hermione Prissy Pants Granger. And there was no way in Merlin's beard she was going to get him to try to defend his goodness twice in one day. He wasn't sure he had that kind of energy.

"Yes, sir," the secretary said curtly.

With his trademark smirk in place, Draco pulled an Extendable Ear from his office drawer and fed it to the bottom of the door, listening intently.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but Mister Malfoy cannot be disturbed," the secretary was saying.

"Look, I know he's in there, I just have to tell him something really quick and then I'll leave him alone."

Whatever, Granger. Probably came to leave Gryffindor brattiness all over his office.

"I'm sorry, but Mister Malfoy will not be available for the rest of the day. But if you give me your message, I could deliver it to him when he is free."

"I can't."

"Then it can't be that short of a message now, can it?" the secretary asked. Malfoy smirked in approval. He was definitely going to have to learn this woman's name.

"Fine, then I'll wait."

"See that you do."

There was a few minutes pause before Hermione started talking again. "Is Malfoy nice to you?" she asked. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

The secretary paused. "I've only been here for a few hours, but so far, Mister Malfoy has proven to be just as intelligent and ambitious as I've heard him to be."

"That doesn't answer the question," Hermione pointed out.

"Companies are not run by nice people," the secretary responded. "They are run by hungry people, tough people, and sometimes, even compassionate people. But they are not defined by kindness. They are defined by the difference they make. They don't have the luxury that normal people do, to be credited on giving money to charity or giving compliments. They are forced to not only be power hungry and dark and brooding, but to be welcoming and successful and forever expanding. So, no, Mister Malfoy is not kind. But he is a great head of Malfoy Enterprises. At least, that's what I've heard."

Hermione was quiet for a second and even Draco found himself at a loss. "How do you know that?" she asked. "About companies and their leaders."

"My father ran a company in France for most of my life," the secretary responded. "He was a tough man, very abrasive and hard to deal with. But I never doubted his compassion. It's different for them, just like it's different for a woman in a male-dominated field. Isn't that right?"

"How did you—"

"The way you dress. You obviously have at least a modicum of style, but you refuse to express it because you're afraid that it'll make you seem less competent. I understand that sentiment. But if we are defined by what a male-dominated society thinks of us, think of how Mister Malfoy must feel. He is defined by what the public thinks of him, and what they think has never been constant. It's a hard identity to grasp."

Hermione paused for a long time, so long that Draco was afraid that she had left. But he could practically hear her brain trying to process what the secretary was saying. Finally she exhaled loudly. "You're incredibly smart."

"I know."

With a sudden jolt of movement, Draco vaulted himself up from the floor, dusted his pants off, and swung his office door open.

"Granger," he said curtly. "Come in."

He turned his eyes to his secretary. "What was your name again?" he asked.

"Terry," she answered. "Terry Dover."

He extended his hand to shake hers. She took it, slightly bemused.

"You're hired."

Hermione was already sitting in a comfortable brown leather chair when Malfoy closed his door and turned to her. "I take it you came to give me another piece of your mind?" he asked.

"I actually came to apologize," she said, wringing her hands together. She felt her neck grow warm and cursed herself, wishing she could look less pathetic. "I was horribly out of line, and my professionalism left much to be desired."

Malfoy nodded, taking his seat behind his desk. "It's hard to look me in the face, isn't it?" he asked.

Just to spite him, Hermione did just that. He wasn't that great, she reasoned. Typical aristocratic features and blond hair. Nothing she hadn't seen before. "It's hard to figure that you aren't the person you used to be," she countered.

"I feel the same about you," Malfoy answered.

Hermione fell silent, unsure of where to go from there.

"Did you just come to apologize? Because I do need to get back to work."

"I would like to help you," Hermione finished in a rush.

Malfoy paused for a while, watching her face carefully for any sign of hidden intent. Under his scrutiny, she squirmed and fidgeted, but finally, he relented. "But we remain professional from here forward, do we agree?"

Hermione held out her hand to shake, and Malfoy took it. "Completely professional."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and stared at Hermione for a few moments, as though he was seeing her differently. "Look over those files Kingsley gave you. You and Blaise will meet here tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp. I'll have breakfast."

Hermione stood to leave. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything yet, Granger. Don't thank the villain," he called after her.

She ignored him, knowing a baiting when she heard it. Terry, the secretary, was sitting at the desk, writing notes down in what looked like a planner.

"Terry?"

She looked up, her green eyes darker than Harry's. Hermione found that comforting. "Would you like to go get a drink tonight?" she asked.

Terry furrowed her brows. "Why?"

"Because you taught me something new, and I think that arguing with me when it isn't even your job means I should buy you a drink," she reasoned.

Terry shrugged. "Okay. Tonight?"

"7."

"Deal, Hermione Granger. See you at 7."


	2. Under the Gun

_A/N: My apologies for not including an Author's Note in the first chapter, I started writing almost aimlessly and was surprised to find myself with over 3k words. Unfortunately, the aimless writing included a few mistakes that I will go back and fix if I am able. Also, my page separations between points of view and time jumps are somehow erased. I will rectify that as well. Again, I suck. _

_Disclaimer: This is my story, but not my characters. _

**Chapter Two: Under the Gun**

At 6 o'clock the next morning, Hermione Granger found herself staring up at the ceiling, dreading with a special kind of nervousness the meeting that was due to happen in…two hours. With a groan similar to the other five thousand groans that escaped her throat throughout her practically sleepless night, Hermione shoved herself up from her bed and trudged to the bathroom to shower.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in this case; she was. The issue was Draco Malfoy. The fact that he was trying to be less offensive was seriously rubbing her the wrong way, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because she felt more like Malfoy than Malfoy when she was around him. Or maybe it was because he just plain made her nervous. She didn't like grown-up Malfoy. He was superior and professional and…too calm.

She closed her eyes and let the spray of the shower run over her face. If she could just pretend to get along with him, then the case would go much faster. If she put her mind to it, she could solve it so quickly she wouldn't even have to spend that much time with him.

Sure, that sounded like a good idea. Quickly, while she scrubbed shampoo into her hair, Hermione reviewed the facts.

Emil Bronson had been murdered three days ago in his home. Evidence leaned toward the Killing Curse, but the Cruciatus had been used a significant amount before he was allowed the release of death. His home had been ransacked, and all files relating to Malfoy Enterprises was gone.

Marlene Harkness had been kidnapped two weeks ago, the kidnappers using Polyjuice Potion to look like Draco Malfoy himself and Emil Bronson. She had been dosed with some sort of potion and woke up days later in an unfamiliar location in Knockturn Alley. Her home had been ransacked, all files relating to Malfoy Enterprises was gone.

Connie Salgado, a maintenance worker at Malfoy Enterprises had been attacked one night while she was cleaning the ground floor. The attackers supposedly grabbed her by the hair, took a chunk of it, and Stunned her. She was found the next morning. No files from Malfoy Enterprises had gone missing.

That was where things got weird. With Connie's hair, the attackers could have impersonated her to get into the building and take all the files they wanted. But no files went missing that night. Since then, Malfoy had upped the security, making it almost impossible to get in without proving your identity. The opportunity had been lost. So what was the point of getting the hair in the first place?

With another groan, Hermione shut off the water to the shower and wrapped herself into a fluffy towel. She surveyed her face in the foggy mirror. Big brown eyes, normal sized nose, normal mouth, tons of freckles. She was so painfully normal she wanted to smash the mirror into a thousand pieces and reset them. She sighed and brushed her teeth, unwilling to make eye contact with herself anymore.

When she was done, she wrung out her hair and wrapped it back in the towel she had secured around herself, replacing it with her purple robe. She padded to the kitchen to make breakfast, ignoring Ron's snoring this time. She would be long gone before he woke up.

She hadn't told him what the case was yet, only that she had a special classified case. That wasn't a lie, really. Malfoy had impressed upon them that they shouldn't talk about the case because the attackers could be someone in the Ministry. She didn't think it was Ron, that was absurd, but he had a big mouth, and she didn't want to give Malfoy another reason to be superior.

It didn't matter. Ron wouldn't talk to her much today anyway; he was upset with her. She had missed dinner last night to go out for a drink with Malfoy's secretary.

"_If your father was the CEO of a company, why would you want to be a secretary?" Hermione asked as they settled into a booth at the Leaky Cauldron. "If that isn't an offensive question." _

_Terry waved her off with a flip of her honey colored hair. "It isn't. My father is in charge for now, and has communicated to me that I will be inheriting the company when he decides to retire or passes away. I wanted to make sure that I understood all aspects of the way a company runs. So I left the country to start at the bottom of another company." _

_Hermione sipped her firewhiskey. "That's very impressive." _

"_I am a perfectionist, Miss Granger. It's an ugly habit on occasion, but so far, I've enjoyed learning all I can about business. What can you tell me about yourself? I've done a terrible amount of talking today." _

_She leaned back in the booth to survey Hermione, and she felt anxiousness creep up on her. It was one thing to pick the brain of a beautiful, smart woman for tips on how to better be a smart, beautiful woman, but next to her, Hermione felt woefully inadequate. She wasn't beautiful, or rich, or accomplished, like Terry. _

"_Um, not much, really. I have a very boring life," Hermione shrugged, sipping her firewhiskey again. _

_Terry brought her martini (a Muggle drink) to her lips and narrowed her emerald eyes. "I doubt that the life of a war hero is boring," she admonished gently. _

"_Well, the war is over, so I'm back to my normal, bookworm self," Hermione reasoned. "I work at the Auror office, I have my friends and my boyfriend of four years, and we live together. That's about it." _

"_Hermione Granger, famous war heroine, most extraordinary witch of the age is tied down? That sounds like a waste of star power," Terry said, polishing off her martini. "Look, I know you feel comfortable in what you have. Your flat, your boyfriend, your clothes. But I know that you are so much better than what you think you deserve." _

_Hermione shifted in her seat, feeling suddenly warm under the pretty girl's gaze. "What do you mean?" _

"_I mean, I want to be your friend, Hermione, if only to show you what you can do. First, I want to take you shopping. How's tomorrow?" _

_Hermione quickly felt her anxiety level rise. "I don't really like shopping…"_

"_The way I do it, trust me, you'll like it," Terry promised. "Tomorrow night?" _

_Hermione was spared answering by her phone, which beeped loudly to indicate an incoming call. "Excuse me," she said, glancing at the display. Next to Ron's picture was the time. "It's already 9:24?" _

_Terry shrugged gracefully and leaned back in the booth to better give Hermione the façade of privacy. _

"_Hello, Ron, I'm so sorry, I forgot about dinner." _

_His voice on the other end of the line was borderline frosty. "I ordered your favorite take out two hours ago, Hermione. Where are you? I thought something happened." _

"_Sorry, I went out for drinks with a new friend," Hermione waved at Terry, who indicated that she would pay for drinks. _

"_Tomorrow," Terry promised, leaving no room for disputation. Hermione sighed and nodded, a slight smile on her face, and jogged to the door. _

"_Ronald, I'm so sorry," she apologized again, but he had already hung up. _

He had been asleep when she got home, an obvious sign of his discontent. As the tea kettle whistled, Hermione pushed her angry boyfriend from her mind and focused on the tasks in front of her. She had about an hour to get ready to meet Malfoy at his office. While her tea cooled she ate her breakfast, already vowing to remain professional once more.

She cradled her tea cup as she padded back to her room, opening the closet as quietly as she could to figure out what to wear. Terry's admonishing comment about her dress stuck with her, echoing through her mind as she surveyed her typical suits in varying colors. She grabbed a dark gray one with a pale purple shirt to wear under her blazer and prayed it would impress the secretary.

Though why she felt the need to impress her she couldn't quite figure out. She slipped the pencil skirt on, zipping it on the side, and buttoned up the lavender shirt. As she surveyed her shoes, she bypassed her typical flats and opted for a pair of black pumps that had been gathering dust at the back of her closet.

She thought once more of Terry, and slipped them on.

**~~~CMPOV~~~**

Draco Malfoy pursed his lips at his security records, sipping his second cup of coffee that morning. He had come in early to look over his notes one final time before he welcomed back the lion into his den.

He suddenly wished for the umpteenth time that he had told Hermione Granger to shove it and get out of his office, but couldn't find the reason to regret that decision so much so early in this enterprise. She was the best, and he had forced himself to accept that despite his overwhelming distaste for everything Gryffindor, and he would continue to do so.

Or so he hoped.

"Mister Malfoy, Mister Zambini is here," Terry said from the doorway, her emerald green pencil skirt emphasizing her eyes and her pale ivory shirt flowing gracefully around her curves. She was almost painfully pretty, and Draco found he could focus much better if he didn't look directly at her.

"Send him in," he said calmly.

He could hear Blaise flirting with her through the door and rolled his eyes. Her voice never changed tone from the icy professionalism that Draco liked so much and soon, Blaise was in his office, scowling in Terry's direction.

"I don't think she likes me."

Draco smirked. "No one likes you, Blaise."

His friend gave him a glare that hid laughter. "That sounds mighty lofty coming from Stone Face Malfoy."

"Don't you have a boyfriend anyway?" Draco asked, finally looking up from his notes.

Blaise shrugged. "I go both ways, you know that." Draco nodded absently as he returned his eyes to his notes. "So, did Granger come back here to apologize?"

Draco's eyes were quickly reading the same line over and over again. "How would you know that?" he asked.

"I know Hermione," Blaise assured him. "She wouldn't just act like that and not apologize. Besides, isn't that what you wanted?"

Draco put the files down once again. "What do you mean?"

Blaise gave him a knowing smile. "I mean, didn't you want her to work this case?"

Draco frowned. "She's the best. I wanted the best."

"Right. So it has nothing to do with the fact that you totally had a crush on her at Hogwarts, right?" Blaise took the seat directly in Draco's line of sight and snatched his coffee cup to take a sip.

Draco sighed. "Everyone had a crush on her for about five whole seconds at the Yule Ball, that doesn't mean I was in love with her or some romantic Gryffindor crap."

"Sure," Blaise nodded like he didn't believe him for a second, sipping his coffee again.

Draco felt a childish panic rise in his chest. "If you say one word to her, I swear to Merlin –"

"Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger is here," Terry said, a much larger smile on her face than strictly professional. Draco narrowed his eyes at her and nodded.

So what if he had a crush on Hermione Granger for approximately as long as it took him to breathe. What's the big deal? That crush promptly squashed itself when she started talking anywhere he could hear her, so it wasn't like it was some huge monumental love affair. He turned his eyes back to Blaise's, which where laughing at him silently, and pursed his lips.

"Keep your mouth shut, Zambini."

Blaise threw up his hands like he was at his mercy and Draco relaxed.

"Good morning, Blaise. Malfoy," Hermione said politely, taking the other seat. Draco inclined his head at her, now just as uncomfortable looking at her as he was looking at Terry.

Speaking of Terry, she was wheeling in the breakfast cart, full of scones and fruit cups and a pot of tea and coffee, her heels clacking on the floor. She made long eye contact with Granger, who giggled.

What the hell was going on here?

"Miss Granger, you look positively divine today," Blaise said, his eyes on Draco. "Purple is my favorite color on you."

Granger looked down at her lap, a blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Blaise."

She looked up fast enough to make more eye contact with Terry, who winked at her.

Draco was going to have to fire this secretary. This was all becoming clearly a problem.

"Can we get started?" he asked, a little bit more forcefully than necessary. Granger jumped a little but nodded, taking her copies of the files from her own briefcase.

"The thing that stuck out to me the most is the attack of Connie, the maintenance worker," she said, ignoring her fruit and scone. "What was the point of taking her hair if they weren't going to use it? Everything else they've done seemed well thought out and executed, but that was sloppy."

Draco leaned back in his chair. "So what do you suggest?"

"I think they're looking for something specific in Malfoy Enterprises, not just an all-around take down. And I think it has something to do with the people they targeted. I would look into their connections to the past CEOs and even former Death Eaters," Hermione said, opening a notebook full of her notes.

Blaise nodded in agreement. "The nature of Emil's killing is very reminiscent of the Dark Lord's people," he said. "I think that's a solid lead."

Draco felt his protective instinct rise at the thought of investigating old Death Eaters, which would include himself and his parents, but fought to suppress it. "Granger, can you call in those background checks and have the Misuse of Magic Office send over their list of Death Eaters that are still at large?" he asked.

She nodded solemnly, making notes on her notebook. "I can do that as soon as we're finished here," she said.

"Eat some of the fruit before you leave, Miss Granger, it's delicious," Blaise said through his napkin as he wiped some peach juice from his lip.

Granger smiled and nodded, spearing a strawberry with her fork and taking a bite. Blaise turned his eyes to Draco, who narrowed his eyes at him. His certain…fondness for women eating fruit had not escaped Blaise's notice throughout their years at Hogwarts and even if Draco could explain why women eating fruit was so arousing, he wasn't sure he wanted to defend himself to Blaise.

He turned his eyes to his papers again, determined not to look at the girl he absolutely hated eating fruit and instead was forced to hear her groan in satisfaction. Against his will, he looked up at her, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the small dribble of juice that stained the corner of her lip.

Another purely inappropriate sound met his ears and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"These strawberries are delicious, Blaise, try one," she said, her tongue reclaiming the small amount of strawberry left at the corner of her mouth. Draco felt the urge to cover his ears with his hands.

"Only if you try the peach," Blaise insisted, smiling widely. Draco scowled.

She obliged, another moan falling from her mouth. "Blaise, I have to go back to the Ministry sometime, stop telling me to eat. This is so delicious!"

Draco swallowed thickly, forcing himself to think of how annoying this girl was in front of him, how positively obnoxious, and devising ways of firing Terry, who had picked the menu for this breakfast. Suddenly Draco was very aware that it had been a long time since he had been with a woman. His eyes slid up from his desk to her again, marveling at the delicious pursing of her lips as she registered the decadent taste of the fruit, the curve of her neck when she let her head fall back onto the chair, and the positively evil glint in Blaise's eye. As she reached for another strawberry, Draco finally slammed his hands on the table.

"You should get going to the Ministry, Granger," he said pointedly. "Lives are at stake."

She was frozen, her napkin halfway to her mouth, and looked a little taken aback. "Sure. I'll be on my way right now," she said, gathering up her stuff. She looked over to Blaise, still a little confused. "See you both tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, yes, now go. Hurry up!" Draco said, waving her off. She looked a little hurt but obliged, closing the door behind her.

"You are a rotten friend, you know that?" he growled in Blaise's direction as he lowered his head to the table.

Blaise nodded happily.

**~~~CMPOV~~~**

Hermione was, truthfully, a little nervous about going back to the Ministry. Ron would be at work by now, and the probability that they would run into each other when they worked in the same department was irrationally high. She cursed her decision to wear heels as they clacked loudly in the marble halls.

Her stomach rumbled, unhappy with the few pieces of fruit she'd eaten at Malfoy's office. She wasn't sure why he looked so uncomfortable with her there, she had been on her best behavior. And then he kicked her out so fast once she had started eating. It was weird. But Malfoy was a puzzle she never intended to take out of the box, so she supposed she shouldn't be worrying herself over it.

"Hermione!"

Hermione froze for a few seconds before realizing that it was Harry talking, and Ron wasn't standing beside him. "Good morning, Harry."

"I heard you got in trouble last night," Harry said, eyeballing Hermione's briefcase. "Working on your classified case?"

"I really should have remembered, I feel so horrible for doing that to Ron, and yes, so no, you can't hear all about it."

Harry winked at her. "Hermione, I'm the Chosen One."

"Chosen To Get Me Fired, maybe, if I tell you what this is," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I can't just tell you."

"Okay, okay," Harry raised his hands in defeat. "But just so you know, Ron is waiting for you in your office."

Hermione frowned, eyeballing her door with nervousness. "I can't have a long conversation with him right now, Harry, I have to go process some background checks and Tracking spells and all kinds of nonsense."

Harry shrugged. "Well I could do that for you if you would just tell me what the case is…"

"No."

Hermione sighed and walked past her office, where she had been looking forward to sitting down for five minutes. She couldn't relax with Ron in there, breathing dragon breath all over her while he tried to guilt her into apologizing again.

"I'll go see him when I'm done," she said mostly to appease Harry. "I'll see you later."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Harry called out. She glared at him. "Only joking!" he said quickly.

**~~~CMPOV~~~**

"Miss Granger," Blaise's silky voice reached her at a lull in her thoughts. "Have all of the Traces and background checks been registered?"

Hermione almost jumped, and tossed a glance over her shoulder just to make sure she was talking to Blaise. "Of course, Mister Zambini. Just finishing up the last Trace now." She lowered her eyes back to the paperwork and felt, as predicted, Blaise's presence creeping up behind her.

"The Malfoys," he said knowingly. "I figured you'd hit that snag eventually."

She sighed and reached up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. "I know that I need to be thorough, but I _just_ apologized to him. I don't want to get on his bad side already."

Blaise nodded. "But since when did Hermione Granger care about what Draco Malfoy thought of her?"

"Since I insulted him without just cause and felt guilty," she admitted. "And besides, I've been talking to some people who think that Malfoy is simply being who he has been groomed to be, you know? If I can do that, why should I be judging someone else doing the same thing?"

Blaise tilted his head as he listened. "Draco Malfoy was groomed to be many things, but a successful CEO of Malfoy Enterprises was never one of them. This is all Draco, trying to redeem himself from his past sins."

"That makes me feel even worse," Hermione groaned. "How can I process this Trace now?"

Blaise shrugged. "You have to do your job, Miss Granger. Just process it and if nothing comes of it, then you never have to show him. He never has to know."

He smiled down at her, and Hermione was suddenly grateful for his acquaintanceship, or friendship, whatever they had.

"Your secret is safe with me," he assured her.

A great gust of a relieved sigh broke free from Hermione's chest and she hugged Blaise around the middle, the way she did Harry whenever Harry made her feel especially good. He froze for a moment, and after a few seconds, came to life and patted her on the back.

"Well this certainly looks classified," a dull voice said from the doorway. Hermione jumped, startled, and shoved Blaise away from her. He took a half step back, his eyes still on Hermione's, and lowered his eyes.

"I'm just going to…go," he said, stepping carefully around Ron. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, 8 a.m. sharp."

Hermione gave him a nod, her eyes still on Ron.

"I was just coming to talk to you," she said, absolutely refusing to look guilty for hugging her friend. But she almost couldn't suppress the blush that crept up her cheeks at the look Ron was giving her.

"Were you?" he asked. "Because it looked like you were a little busy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Ronald, Zambini was just helping me with part of the case, it wasn't a big deal."

He furrowed his brows, trying to process her statement, but still not quite buying it. "So Blaise Zambini can know about your classified case, but I can't. And now, you suddenly hug Slytherins?"

"Okay, first of all, we are _years _out of Hogwarts, Houses don't matter anymore, and second, yes, Zambini can know about the case because we are working on it together. I'm not just leaving you out on purpose," Hermione stepped forward, reaching out her hands for Ron's, who retracted them.

"Blaise Zambini works in private security. Why would he be working on a classified case with an Auror?" Ron asked, his detective voice kicking in.

Hermione looked away, unsure of how to navigate the question without making it obvious who they were working for. "The person involved in the case asked that Zambini be brought in. Apparently, they feel more comfortable working with someone outside the Ministry."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Who could you possibly be working for that wants to work with _you_, but doesn't trust the Ministry? That doesn't make any sense."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, I can't answer these questions. I have to go."

She pushed past him and back into the hallway, gathering her notes and her paperwork close to her chest. As she fled to her office, a single paper fell from a loose folder and floated carefully and gracefully to the floor. Ron watched it carefully and scooped it up, reading the heading.

_Request for a Trace: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy_


End file.
